


greenleaf

by Icej



Series: Sharing Tongues [6]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Ceremony, Gen, Greenleaf, Rituals, ThunderClan (Warriors), Worldbuilding, clanlife, shy character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 14:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icej/pseuds/Icej
Summary: “It’ll be fine,” declared Beepaw. “This is like, a huge ceremony. Everyone’s going to be paying attention to our moony ancestors and not to your sorry face.”Or: in Greenleaf, they feast.
Series: Sharing Tongues [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412473
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	greenleaf

**Author's Note:**

> In Greenleaf, they feast.

The world was less overwhelming, back here.

Between the sheer wall of the hollow and the nursery, the roar of the clan was but a rumble. The smells of blood and warriors and sickly sweet honeysuckle faded.

Dusk was setting, but the air was still as warm and soft as a queen’s nest. Greenleaf was come. Greenleaf was come, and Thunderclan would welcome their ancestors into the camp to receive their blessings. The clan would celebrate into the night, sing and feast and play games until dawn. All of Honeypaw's clanmates were excited, joyous, loud and raucous; all her clanmates had been speaking only of the Greenleaf feast for days. Honeypaw was anxious. She found social gatherings about as terrifying as raging hailstorms. And she was dreading the ceremony: she was dreading the moment where the blessed ones would descend to earth... what if they somehow knew that Honeypaw was a clumsy, cowardly apprentice? 

The young cat breathed in and out. She focused on the sour scent of blackberries and the sharp prickle of a thorn between her pads. Her role was to weave ferns into a bramble bush, and she balanced on her haunches to push soft fronds into the spindly branches of the shrub. 

The world was less overwhelming when she could focus on simple work. 

Her paw fell on a berry and it burst wetly. She brought her foot to her jaws, seeing how the fruit had smeared dark juices over her grey pads. She had nicked quite a few berries in the past few days—their crushed remains tasted as sour as they smelled and so she held her breath until—

“Hey! Hey! Hey, Honeypaw, what’s up? Oh, you snagged a berry too? They taste gross!”

Honeypaw felt her heart racing, then slowing down. She turned painstakingly in the tight space between the bramble bush and the towering wall of hollow, wincing as thorns snagged in her thick fur. Her wide eyes met her sister’s—wider—eyes. Beepaw pressed herself against Honeypaw’s chest. Her short whiskers trembled with excitement.

“They’re about to start!’ she said in her high-pitched mewl. ‘Really, really about to start! Spottedcloud just went out the entrance, and Briarflower says you should come out now and that she’s sure you’ve done well. I told her I was sure you’d made the wall into the strongest, toughest wall of all the camps around the lake because you’re really, really good at doing things. And patient. More patient than me. I’m really sorry I ditched you, by the way. I lied and told Elmclaw it was too small for the two of us back here. Which it kind of is, so I wasn’t really lying. I mean, I feel a bit constricted, don’t you?”

Honeypaw nodded awkwardly, her chin smashing into Beepaw’s bony forehead. With a mewl of protest, the tiny cat scrambled backward. Honeypaw’s heart plummeted. She wasn’t used to being taller than her sister. They had been born two tiny kits and their bodies had stayed much the same into the first moon of their apprenticeship. And then, seemingly overnight, Honeypaw had gotten taller. She now had jutting shoulders and gangly limbs. Instead of walking, she tottered about like a stunned spider. Because she had grown so big, it took many heartbeats to get out of the confines of the work zone—Honeypaw got stuck and then unstuck, and was forced to crawl. 

Beepaw egged her on, and Honeypaw burst out into the sunlight of the camp. Sounds and smells instantly assailed her. Their clanmates were all chirping and trilling excitedly—she could smell their excitement. Their pelts blended—brown, golden, russet—as they crowded around the entrance of the camp, tails raised high and twitching animatedly. 

Honeypaw instinctively searched for their mother and found her pressed against Thornclaw, inside the crowd. Before she could wonder whether to join her, a she-cat turned her head to them. For a single heartbeat, her small, tattered ears aligned perfectly, it seemed as if there were a single bramble leaf resting atop her head. Then she turned back to the entrance and motioned for them to join them with a jerk of her tail. Honeypaw’s heart quickened, and she almost tripped before Beepaw’s warm, rough nose pushed her along. 

Briarflower was Honeypaw’s mentor of two moons, and Honeypaw—Honeypaw was still very shy around her. Honeypaw was shy around everybody.

“It’ll be fine,' declared Beepaw. 'This is like, a huge ceremony. Everyone’s going to be paying attention to our moony ancestors and not to your sorry face.”

Honeypaw purred. The world was less overwhelming—sometimes—when she was with her sister.

Briarflower jerked her tail once more, and the apprentices rushed to her side. Honeypaw dipped her head to her mentor and nodded to the queen’s littermate—Bramblestorm—before realizing that she was crouching in the warrior’s blind spot. Briarflower swept her tail over Honeypaw’s back to smooth her ruffled pelt.

“Be still,’ murmured the warrior, ‘and be quiet,” she added with a warning glance at Beepaw, who was pressing herself against Honeypaw. “Spottedcloud and Thrushpaw won’t be long.”

“When is the feast going to start?” asked Beepaw, struggling to lower her naturally loud voice. She purred, started to knead the dusty ground under her paws, but a growl silenced her. 

Beepaw’s mentor, Elmclaw, stalked toward them and peered down at his apprentice. He had bony, angular features, with ears as wide as batwings. Beepaw cowered before his long muzzle, too surprise to keep her claws sheathed. Briarflower cast a wary look at him, then flicked her tail at Beepaw to draw the little cat’s attention.

“After Spottedcloud has cleaned the entrance of the camp for our ancestors, and after Redstar makes her welcoming speech,” she explained.

“But the spirits won’t bestow their blessings on us if we don’t treat them respectfully,” grumbled Elmclaw. “Which is why you must behave like a worthy apprentice and not a spoiled kit who only cares about stuffing her face!”

After growling his final word of warning, Elmclaw turned to their leader and the entrance of the camp. Beepaw hunched her shoulders. “Everybody and their ma wants to stuff their faces…” she mumbled under her breath. Honeypaw placed her tail over that of her sister’s. They had to be on their best behavior because the ancestors would come soon.

Honeypaw and Beepaw had been born late the previous Greenleaf. They had known only cold weather, the musk of rotting trees, and the frustration of gnawing at skeletons for marrow. The young apprentices had never seen the Greenleaf ceremony performed before. They only knew what their mother had told them when they were kits, and what Briarflower explained, later, when they were old enough to pay attention to a lecture that lasted longer than a sprint to the dirt-place.

Their mother had told them that the ancestors lived in the stars. Briarflower said that they would only come down from the skies if the camp entrance was clean. Their mother had explained that the ancestors only blessed well-behaved kits. Briaflower said they looked out for respectful, hardworking and courageous apprentices. Honeypaw privately thought their standards were pretty high. She was terrified that the blessed ones could read her mind, though, so she tried to avoid thinking about them too much.

At the start of every Greenleaf, Thunderclan performed a ceremony in honor of the fallen ones. They gathered prey and sacred herbs and cleaned the camp and repaired every den to make their home worthy of the ancestors. The third day of preparations was the busiest. Warriors were dispatched to all corners of the territory to hunt the biggest pieces of prey that they could find, apprentices and queens wove honeysuckle flowers into each den, and the medicine cats disappeared to harvest fresh catnip. Now, dusk was setting, the first stars appearing in the sky like glinting eyes. The fresh-kill pile was stocked full of squirrels and other prey, the heady smell of blood mingling with the honeysuckle and the sharp scent of catnip. 

Honeypaw could taste fear in her mouth, as sour as a blackberry. She wondered how the blessed ones would look and whether she would be able to smell them coming, even though her mother and Briarflower said that you couldn't see or smell ancestors. Would they would think she was respectful, courageous and hardworking or would they would see her for what she was, a terrified—awkward—apprentice? 

Redstar raised her tail. The clan stilled.

A leaf fell from the oaks atop the hollow, drifting lazily down to the gathered cats. As the leaf touched the ground, the medicine-cat and her apprentice emerged from the entrance tunnel, holding delicate stems in their jaws. Catnip. Honeypaw had only seen the sacred herb two times in her life, and she opened her jaws to welcome the plant’s cool aroma. For a time, its powerful smell was all she could focus on.

Then warriors pressed against Honeypaw and pushed her to the back of the camp. The apprentice tripped, confused, scrambled up—where were the ancestors?—and her sister was right by her side. Honeypaw felt her big, warm nose push behind her shoulder blade. 

As the clan pressed forward, Spottedcloud and Thrushpaw came to the foot of the high ledge and deposited the sacred herbs there, at Redstar’s paws. The leader was not standing on the ledge, for it would not do for her to be positioned above the visiting ancestors. She was therefore level with the clan, and the small Beepaw had to strain to see her. 

“Ancestors of Thunderclan!’ yowled Redstar. ‘Your clan stands before you and welcomes you into your home!”

The leader swept her tail outward, and the warriors trilled in pleasure, their high pitched voices echoing off the walls of the hollow. Honeypaw croaked. Beepaw chirped. Her voice mingled with the rest in beautiful harmony, and for a heartbeat, all was right in Honeypaw’s mind.

“Thunderclan has thrived in the time since you have last descended upon this realm,” declaimed the leader as her tattered ears swiveled to capture the yowls of her clan. “Our brave warriors recaptured our ancestral land from Skyclan,’ she said, pawing at the catnip at her feet, ‘and we are now able to present you the first harvest of Greenleaf! We have repaired and reinforced our dens with ferns, and we have hunted the biggest prey in the forest so that you could feast alongside us!”

This time the warriors yowled along with their leader. Cats pressed into each other, bigger warriors bearing down on smaller cats and—the world seemed to close in—Honeypaw and Beepaw exchanged a frightened look from the corner of their eyes, raising their heads to breathe. And—all of a sudden—Honeypaw saw fleeting movements, unexplained flashes of silver. The fallen ones. The blessed ones. She whimpered.

“I ask that the good spirits of our ancestors watch over us,’ said Redstar, ‘and give us their blessings for the many nights to come. As you walk among us tonight, bless the clan with warmth and fat prey. Let your experienced eyes distinguish which apprentice is ready for their warrior ceremony and which queen is ready for a new litter. Bless our elders with good health, and our warriors with sharp claws.”

The clan roared, their mingled voices swelling to the tip of the oaks that stood atop the hollow. Honeypaw heard other shouts, frayed and warm echoes, like a warm breeze—the yowls of the dead matching the yowls of living. She tried yelling with them, pushing all the air out from her body and. Screaming was exhilarating.

“The clan shall speak your names and tell your stories tonight, and for every praise sung, we ask you to bless us with another morsel of prey!”

The fallen ones had come. The blessed ones had come. Honeypaw felt her heart beat faster and faster and faster. 

“We thank you, ancestors, and welcome you among us on the first day of Greenleaf!” 

All at once, the cats around her turned to the fresh kill pile. They watched Redstar distribute squirrels to the elders and they watched the deputy give the juiciest piece to their leader. They watched with their jaws parted to capture the smell of blood and muscle, the delicious aroma of meat, and they imaged their tongues lapping at blood and their teeth crunching on bones and they— Redstar lowered her tail. All the warriors rushed forward. Honeypaw was swept away, caught in a tangle of limbs and tails and whiskers, and the world tumbled through her mind until nothing made sense. Brown, golden, russet pelts rubbed against her sensitive nose and her fragile ears, cats jumped over her, and she folded into herself in terror and she felt like dust on the ground and then— 

through the forest of legs  
for a fleeting moment she saw her sister’s face  
Her beloved sister  
And her dearest face  
Her ears as tiny as snowflakes and her dark markings  
Her big nose and her trembling whiskers  
And the world stilled. 

Honeypaw purred. She purred until the rush for prey was over and purred until two plump voles fell in front of her nose and purred as their mother came to join them and Briarflower dipped her head in respect. Greenleaf was come. She could see the joy in her sister’s dearest, dearest face.


End file.
